Bella

BELLA 

I'm standing at the check-out; Princess is standing next to me, on crutches. I'm wondering how I'm going to carry all this out. We're at the organic nursery, and I've got a load of seedlings and a bag of organic lollipops.

Spring is nigh, it's time to start planting again. So, I've got my leeks, onions, salad and parsley. And a bag of pink radish seeds. My mind is working hard; what am I going to work this year, and most of all, NOT work? Artichokes? No more tomatoes; where we are, tomatoes suffers. 3 years ago, I tried. Hard. I spent hours outside. For a grand total of 6 little tomatoes. Organic farming is great work. It's one of most satisfying activities, I find. I like being outside, hands in the earth, nurturing plants. I'm proud of what I have: apple trees, peach trees, lilies, tulips, carnations, hortensia bushes, cosmos, rows of Indian carnations, lily of the valleys, and more flowers galore that I love. Lilac trees that always give me such elation when they are in bloom; the bouquets scent the house for days in the Spring. And planting is something that Princess loves too. I've raised her to love the earth; respect and nurture nature, be good to Mother Gaia and she will reward you. Nature can be cruel, and can be capricious, but the greatest lesson is the humility you learn in the face of such great power.

So, here I am, and wondering what I'll be working on this year.

And that's when we hear something.

A mewling, more precisely, lots of mewling.

Princess and I look at each other; we look towards the noise.

There, past the check-out counter, on a table, are what seem to be a little pile wriggling, furry rats.

I pay, and trying to juggle all my plants and the lollipops, Princess and I go to the table.

I squeal; upon closer look, they're not rats. They're little kittens, eyes still closed, crawling on top of each other, mewling hungrily. They don't look more than a 4 or 5 days old. The other employees of the nursery are watching them, sadly.

"What's going on?"

They look at each other before answering me.

"Well...we noticed about a week ago, a dark cat was hiding just outside. She had a litter of kittens the next day. 3 days ago, she disappeared. She hasn't been back since...."

I look outside. There's a big, main road outside. The nursery is right on a "route départementale"; in France, these roads are smaller than motorways, but much bigger than avenues or boulevards. These roads link villages and towns. This is the only organic nursery for 40 kilometres around. So there's much coming and going here.

I think of the worst; apparently, so have the employees.

"What are you going to do with them?"

We're Sunday; Princess decided to stop off here after lunch. I'm wondering what they'll do today; outside of Paris, the country practically comes to a halt on Sundays and Mondays.

They look very uncomfortable.

"...Well....if no one wants them...."

Princess has literally plunged herself into the little mound of kittens; she's cooing and they're meowing piteously.

"...we'll probably have to...um...well....get rid of them..we're Sunday...we can't keep them...."

I feel my face go very cold, and I swallow a few times. They're very sweet, although very tiny. I can see already the work this is going to be. Other shoppers come and see; then they walk away. No one wants to take care of an animal this young.

I pick one up; I look at it in the palm of my hand. I sigh.

Princess looks at me; she's got 3 of them in her arms.

"I'm not leaving unless we save them."

She looks very determined. I understand her; except that SHE'S not going to be the one getting up 3 times a night to feed them baby bottles, changing sheets and hot-water bottles, etc.

I count them; there are 5 of them.

I shake my head.

"We can't take all of them. We already have a cat. A huge, fat, orange one. And we're constantly rescuing animals; a turtle, a Labrador, a rabbit, another little dog..."

I say WE, but the truth is, I'm just as much an animal lover as she is. And Mr.Always Right isn't any better; he's always turning up with abandoned or wounded animals for me.

As a student, I worked part-time as a vet assistant. I love animals, and I'm pretty good at basic treatment.

Princess's eyes well-up with tears.

I look up heavenward.

"Ok. But just one. I can't physically handle more than that. I've got more than enough to do."

I feel terrible for the others. I pull out my phone and call Mr.Always Right.

"Uh huh. Well, take them all."

"WHAT?! ALL of them? Are you gonna help me with baby bottles, cleaning up and washing them?"

Silence. A looooong silence.

"You're good at nurturing. I mean..."

If my fist could go through the phone, it would.

I call 3 other people, who have told me they want a pet. They all refuse; it's too much care.

My hear drops, but I can't do otherwise. Readers, you may think me cruel and hard; but I couldn't have done otherwise.

"Choose one. We really can't take them all with us. Sweetie, I'm sorry, but I'm going to be the one doing all the Mommy work. We have to choose just one."

Princess starts crying, but she picks one up.

A little dark tabby; a female. All tabbies are females.

She picks up each one and gives them a kiss.

I look at the employees.

They breathe a sigh of relief; at least one is going to be saved.

One of them runs off; he comes back a minute later with a basket.

"This is on me. We've had these kitten for 2 days. No one has wanted them. We've been feeding them, and then leaving them here for the night, but we can't do this indefinitely. You're the first nice person around."

I shrug. It doesn't make me feel better; I feel still like crap for the others.

Princess has put the little tabby in her sweater.

"I'm going to think about it, ok? If I feel like I can really care for the others, then I'll be back tomorrow. Can you hold onto them until then?"

They look at each other.

"We're closed tomorrow."

I swallow.

The guy who gave me the basket speaks up.

"I'll leave them outside. If they're still....you know...tomorrow, then take them."

I look at him.

"I will."

We're in the car. The engine's running, but I'm not driving away. Yet.

I look in the rear-view mirror. Princess is lovingly hugging the tabby.

"Ok. We've got to find a pharmacy."

I remember that we drove past a pharmacy on our way here; there's a pharmacy open on Sundays.

We drive there; I ask the chemist for powdered cat mother's milk.

She shakes her head.

"I'm very sorry, I don't do veterinary products like that."

My head starts to hurt. This little cat needs milk. Human baby formula isn't adapted to animals.

I look up in the Yellow Pages all the vets in the area. I thank the Lord for iPhones.

I call 7, and then on the 8th, I hit oil.

"I'm the vet on emergency shift this weekend for the area. What's wrong?"

I feel like jumping up and down. The vet's a woman, but I swear, at this stage, I feel like I could kiss her.

I explain the situation to her; she gives me the directions to the clinic.

At the clinic, she looks at the tabby.

"She's just about a week old. She looks tough enough. Here's your formula; you know what to do?"

I nod; 7 feedings minimum over 24 hours. Massages at every feeding. You also have to massage the perineal area; kittens this young don't know how to eliminate on their own, so you have to stimulate them, otherwise they don't rid their systems of toxins, and they die. You have to do this ALL the time, all day, all night. Young animals have to be kept on a hot-water bottle (I don't own one of those veterinary warming lamps and blankets) so, you have to make sure constantly that the hot-water bottle is hot. You also have to clean them all the time; the Mommy cat teaches her babies to clean themselves. You have to substitute yourself as best as you can to her.

Back at home, I give the tabby her first meal. I'm having to use a syringe I bought at the pharmacy; she's not good at taking the bottle (a special veterinay bottle) so I've decided to use a syringe instead.

"Bella."

I turn around. Princess is looking at her.

I smile.

"That's a beautiful name. Quite right for her."

The first 24 hours are the toughest and the most dangerous. I'm not panicking, but I'm in "nursing" mode. Bella is in bed with me; I sleep but lightly. I noticed washing her earlier that her umbilical cord is still attached. She's very young, younger than I thought. So, I'm a little worried. I shouldn't have; I am woken at 4 AM by Bella trying to crawl up my chin, meowing at the top of her lungs for milk. Pretty impressive for a kitten who is still blind and doesn't have a clue where she is.

That was Sunday. Now it's Saturday night, nearly a week later. Bella has opened her eyes, is perky and has largely doubled in size. She's learned to take her bottle. She's progressed and grown well, and I'm happy. She is a tough little cookie and that's good. I like seeing how she hangs on to life. We all have to; life doesn't stop to wait for us. We've gotta run, otherwise, life outruns us.

Case in point: I check the next day, but the other ones are gone. I looked around, I called and even meowed, but nothing. I somehow know that they're gone. I hope that other people have been kind too; but humans, I know, are the most cruel of all animals. So I don't put much stock in their capacity at being generous and self-sacrificing. At least, not a lot. There are some great people, some really great people, but most aren't quite as kind as I'd like them to be. And not as kind to animals as I think they should be. I somehow hope that maybe the others have found a way to survive, but I know that's not realistic. I still hope and say a little prayer for them.

Bella's lucky; or is it her fate? Was it written in the stars? Was she supposed to be find herself in our house? I'm doing my absolute best to take care of her; it's a heck of a lot of work, but so what?

Whichever way, I hope that she's happy and that she'll grow up to be a big happy cat.